


Kiss Without a Sound

by turps



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 08:09:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17300975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turps/pseuds/turps
Summary: The trouble with touring in a van is -- they’re touring in a van.





	Kiss Without a Sound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MistressKat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressKat/gifts).



> Thanks to Sperrywink for checking this over, and for encouraging me to write a fill.

The trouble with touring in a van is -- they’re touring in a van.

It’s not even a good van. It runs, sure. At least, mostly. Sometimes they break down in the middle of buckfucknowhere and it’s left to Frank and Ray to poke at the engine while Otter sleeps at the side of the road and the Ways huddle inside like the sun-dodging creatures of the night that they are.

Well, not literally. Frank doesn’t think that they’re actually vampires. Well, not in the way that they’d bite necks and drink blood. But the need to hide from the sun and apparent aversion to mirrors would explain quite a lot. 

Like now, when it’s at least a thousand degrees, the sun high overhead and Gerard’s huddled up in the back of the van, a hoodie over his head and feet tucked up close to an amp while Mikey’s….

“Jesus fuck, Mikey. What the hell are you doing?” His heart pounding, Frank tightens his grip on the wrench that he’s holding and runs over to Mikey, who’s apparently left the van in the few minutes Frank wasn’t looking and is now inexplicably peering down at a snake.

“It’s dead. At least, I think it’s dead.” To prove his point Mikey kicks at the snake, which thankfully doesn’t curl up and strike, just sort of uncurls in a loop of dusty scales and rotting patches of torn flesh. “It looks like some creature tried to eat it.”

“A creature, right.” Frank takes in a deep breath as he waits for his heart to calm down. “And you thought you’d check that out by kicking the snake?”

Mikey shrugs, apparently intending to bypass that perfectly valid point as he asks, “Were you going to save my life and wench it to death?”

It takes Frank a moment to catch on, and he looks down at his hand, where he’s still holding the wench in a white-knuckled grip. “I should wench you to death. You can’t go kicking at snakes.”

“But it was dead,” Mikey says, toeing at the snake again. “Look at it, it’s snake road-kill. Snake creature-kill. I should show it to Gee. Or drop it on Otter. He’d probably wake up and scream.”

“If you try to pick that thing up I’ll wench _you_ to death.” To emphasise his point Frank points the wench at Mikey, fully prepared to send the wench flying. Not that he’d actually aim for Mikey, but close-by sure. Just enough to create a distraction before his idiot band-mate tries to pick up a dead snake. “Why are you even out here anyway? I thought you were hiding from the sun.”

“I was,” Mikey says, and sighs, barely managing to shove his fingertips into the pockets of his skintight pants as he stares up at the sun. “It’s too hot in there, and it smells funny. I think those burgers under the seats have gone off.”

“You think?” Frank channels his mom, giving Mikey a stern look. “I said we should toss them at the last rest stop.”

Mikey hunches in on himself and looks miserable. “They were good at the last rest stop.”

“They were a step away from being sentient at the last rest stop,” Frank corrects, shuddering slightly at the thought of anyone trying to eat the leftover burgers with their faint green tinge. “Don’t touch them, or the snake. Or anything.”

“Yes, mom.” Mikey snaps off a sloppy salute, but his heart obviously isn’t in it as he looks between the van and the heat shimmering road that stretches for miles ahead. “It sucks here, and I’m thirsty.”

“So go drink something,” Frank says, but is already heading for the van, tossing the wench next to the half-empty tool kit that’s open next to Ray’s feet. 

Rummaging in the back of the van, and trying to ignore the urge to poke at a sleeping Gerard, Frank feels guilty leaving Ray to work alone, but sometimes it’s just best to head off any possible distractions. Or offers of help from Mikey, because god knows, they don’t want a repeat of the big coffee meet engine steam explosion of last month. It’s why Frank pulls out his hidden bottle of soda, checking it’s still slightly cool before heading back over to Mikey.

“Here, drink this.” Shoving the bottle at Mikey, Frank grins at the smile he gets in return, happy when Mikey twists off the cap and take a long drink.

“You’re a prince amongst men.”

“You know it,” Frank says, bumping Mikey’s arm with his own as they stand side by side, watching Ray mess with the engine and Otter snore at the side of the road. “Giving you soda, saving you from snakes and probably sun stroke. You couldn’t exist without me.”

“The snake was dead, and I’m not actually at a risk of sun stroke right now,” Mikey says, taking another drink before giving the bottle to Frank. “But you’re right, I couldn’t.”

“You couldn’t,” Frank agrees, pointing the bottle at Ray and grinning when he looks up from the engine, sweat-soaked and rolling his eyes.

“What about me? None of you could exist without me. You’d all be dead at the side of the road.”

“And we all know that,” Frank says, meaning every word as he shifts his hand, squeezing Mikey’s fingers tight with his own. “And that’s why you get to finish the soda while I keep Mikey safe from snakes and the sun.”

Ray wipes his arm across his forehead and straightens, looking for a long moment before he smiles and simply says, “Deal.”


End file.
